There's a fascinating little snippet in Shir HaShirim Rabbah – a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Song of Songs – that touches on exactly that.
It starts with the idea that the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, wasn't always hanging out in the earthly, lowliest places. The proof text? Genesis 3:8: "And they heard the voice of the Lord walking in the garden."
But here’s where it gets interesting. Rabbi Abba points out that the verse doesn't actually say "walking" (holech). It says mishalech. And that slight difference changes everything. Rabbi Abba understands mishalech to mean the voice was "jumping and leaving, jumping and leaving." What does that mean, jumping and leaving? It implies a certain… instability, a fleeting presence. God wasn't just strolling casually; the Divine voice was almost hesitant, not fully grounded in that space.
Then, Shir HaShirim Rabbah dives into Song of Songs 5:2: "I am asleep, but my heart is awake; it is the sound of my beloved knocking: Open for me, my sister, my love, my faultless dove, for my head is filled with dew, my locks, drops of night.”
This verse becomes a dialogue, a plea. The congregation of Israel, Knesset Yisrael, speaks to God: "Master of the universe, I am asleep regarding the mitzvot (commandments), but my heart is awake for acts of kindness."
It's a powerful confession, isn't it? We stumble, we fall short. We might not always be perfect in our observance, but our intentions, our hearts, are in the right place.
The text continues, unpacking this idea further. "I am asleep regarding acts of charity, but my heart is awake to perform them." Even when we can't physically perform acts of generosity, the desire, the yearning, is still there. "I am asleep regarding the offerings, but my heart is awake for reciting Shema and Amidah." Even without the Temple, our prayers, our connection to God, remain.
And here's a beautiful layer: “I am asleep regarding the end [of days], but my heart is awake for the redemption.” This speaks to the messianic hope, the yearning for a better future. As Rabbi David Luria explains, there's a set time for redemption to arrive through natural means, but there's also the possibility of an earlier, supernatural redemption. We might not know when the ultimate redemption will come, but we remain hopeful, our hearts open to the possibility.
But it's not just us yearning for God. The text flips the script: “I am asleep regarding the redemption, but the heart of the Holy One blessed be He is awake to redeem me.” Even when we feel undeserving, God's love, God's desire to redeem us, remains constant. As the Yefe Kol commentary puts it, God will find a reason to redeem us, even when we don't see it ourselves.
Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba asks, "Where have we found that the Holy One blessed be He is called the heart of Israel?" And he answers with a quote from Psalms 73:26: "But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
It all comes full circle. God isn't some distant, detached being. God is intertwined with us, the very strength of our hearts. We might feel asleep sometimes, disconnected, but the connection, the yearning, the love, flows both ways.
So, the next time you feel distant from the Divine, remember this: maybe it's not about finding God, but recognizing that God is already there, in your heart, and yearning for you, too.